Tied to His Betrayal

by Stacey Kennedy

  And I wouldn’t change them for the world. These are my people.

  I follow Mom into the kitchen and all I can think of is how much I’ve changed, even if they haven’t, and how much I want to get back to who I was when I left this house five years ago, ready to conquer the world. Still, when I spot the white kitchen cabinets, and smell the peanut butter cookies, I know I’m a veteran survivor.

  Life hasn’t broken me yet.

  I’ll bounce back. I always do. But where I’ll end up is the part I haven’t figured out exactly.

  I keep the thought to myself as Mom removes the batch of cookies from the oven, leaving the hot pan on the stove, and then settles in behind the kitchen island. “I thought you said you were cutting down on baking because of Dad’s cholesterol.”

  “Oh, he’s fine, and far too grumpy without cookies.” Mom fetches more flour out of the bag, then places it in the mixing bowl. “Come help me mix up the second batch?”

  I step in next to her, glancing into the mixer and turn it on to Stir, waiting for the flour to mix in before I turn the switch to Beat. The mixing spoon begins moving in hypnotic circles, spinning the mixture, faster and faster, and with the tantalizing smell of the sweet combination of sugar and butter spiraling through the air, I’m brought back to a time when I once baked these same peanut butter cookies for someone else.

  “We can’t do this anymore.”

  Darius’s words brush across me the moment I enter his office and place the plate of peanut butter cookies onto his desk. It’s seven o’clock at night and no one else is here. He’s careful about our relationship, ensuring that no one ever sees me. Even though he’s looking at me, I glance at his ear, wondering if he’s talking on the phone.

  “Did you not hear me?” he asks, sitting at his desk.

  That’s when I realize he is talking to me, and I can see plainly that he’s not in a good mood. “What can’t we do?” I ask hesitantly.

  “This. Us.”

  I notice his eyes. They’re cold. “Why?” I don’t even want to ask the question, but I know he’s giving me no other choice.

  “Because what kind of life is this, Taylor?” He rises from his seat, moves to the front of the desk and leans against the edge. Unease floods me when I drop into the chair, listening to him continue. “You’re only nineteen. I’m twenty-nine.”

  “Oh, please,” I retort, unable to look away from him, my heart pounding. “We are not going back to this, are we?”

  “You’re young, Taylor,” he says, eyes soft. “You cannot deny that fact.”

  I sigh, not wanting to have this conversation again. “Would you stop it. You’re only ten years older than me, and I’m happy with you.”

  “That’s a lifetime at this age,” he counters sternly.

  “No, it really isn’t, and I don’t want to talk about this.” Because I’m so damn sick of having this same conversation over and over again. I cross my arms, mirroring his brusqueness. “So what if you’re older than me? This works between us, and you know it.”

  He stays put on the edge of the desk, looking as imposing as ever. One eyebrow slowly arches in disagreement. “What I know is that I’m busy working. I’m busy networking. I’m busy attending events to further my business that I cannot take you to.”

  A lump rises in my throat at the flash of strength in his expression, the resolve in his eyes. “Well, then, you can fix that and take me to these events with you.”

  He shakes his head, adamant. “You know why that can’t happen.”

  I feel the harsh jab of rejection to my chest. Even so, I feel the need to push on and punish myself further. “Actually, no, I have no idea why that can’t happen.”

  His arms lower to his sides, fingers wrapping tightly around the edge of the desk, knuckles white. “I have a reputation to uphold and dating a girl ten years younger than me can hurt that reputation.”

  My chin trembles and an annoying tear slides down my face. I wipe it away quickly, wanting to be the woman he needs me to be. But he’s breaking my heart and I can’t stop from showing it.

  His brows furrow as he pushes off the desk, moving to me. “Please don’t cry.” He takes my hands, lifting me to my feet and his warmth and strength surround me. I’m losing myself just that easily as his arms wrap around me tight, because that’s what he does to me. “You know I deeply care for you,” he adds softly, placing his chin on top of my head, “but what kind of life is this for you, Taylor?” He leans away, wiping my tears off my warm cheeks. “Coming to my office? Secret dinners at my house? Keeping you hidden from the world? This is wrong.”

  “But it’s what I want,” I tell him fiercely.

  He shakes his head, his warm eyes full of emotion. “It’s what you think you want.”

  There are a hundred things to say, but only one stands out as most important. “You could give it all up for me. Choose me over your success.”

  As warm as those eyes were a second ago, now they’re tight, burning with the fire of a determined man. “You know I can’t do that.”

  Coldness strips me bare and I push out of his arms. “Why? Because you need to prove yourself to your shitty father? Prove yourself to me. I’m the one who matters here, no one else.”

  He takes a couple steps back and leans against his desk again, fingers gripping the table. “I don’t want to hurt you. That’s not—”

  “You are hurting me, Darius,” I state.

  His eyes shut tight before he reopens them, strength in their depths. “It’s better to hurt you now than to break you later.”

  “Taylor.”

  I jump at my mother’s loud voice and turn to face her as she adds, “Sweetie, you’re going to mix that batter into nothing. I think it’s done.”

  “Sorry,” I laugh softly, seeing my hand shake as I turn off the mixer.

  That memory of Darius isn’t my favorite to remember, and I really hate that making cookies with my mother brings it back. I lift the beater out, then bring the bowl over to the waiting cookie sheets on the island.

  Almost as if Mom can read my mind, she settles next to me and asks, “Have you seen Darius at all?”

  While Darius kept our relationship quiet, I hadn’t. My parents knew and accepted our relationship because Darius was such a gentleman, and they knew he made me happy. I move to the sink, taking off my rings and washing my hands. “I did. When I stopped by Allie’s condo, he was there.”

  “I see him all the time in the tabloids at the grocery store,” Mom says, grabbing a fork off the counter. “He’s so famous now. A billionaire, they say.” I return to her at the island as she adds, “He’s not married. Did you know that?”

  “Yes, I knew.” I scoop some batter into my hands, forming a perfect ball.

  Mom waits until I place the ball onto the cookie sheet before she uses a fork to squish the batter down, making a crisscross pattern. “If you ask me, that’s because he’s still regretting letting you go.”

  I roll my eyes. My mother is the romantic of the family. But I know better. Fairy tales belong in stories. The reality of love is a whole lot messier. “Darius is married to his job. The reason he’s single is because no woman would ever put up with that.”

  “That’s true,” says Mom with a slight shrug. “It’s a shame he’s lost sight of what’s important in life.” She waits for me to place another ball of batter onto the cookie sheet before continuing. “And Shawn? Why didn’t he come with you?”

  “Actually, we broke up,” I tell her. “Hence, why I’m home.”

  “Oh.” Mom’s brows rise in surprise. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. The breakup was long overdue.” I place the final ball of batter onto the pan before taking it to the oven and placing it inside. I drop down in front of the oven, watching the cookies bake, like I used to do as a child.

  “So…” Mom eventually drawls behind me, breaking the silence. “You’re single. Darius is single.”

  I don’t bother looking back at h
er. “Don’t get any ideas. That ship has sailed long ago.”

  Liar, my heart echoes.

  Darius

  The sun is high in the sky when I exit the sleek black Jaguar in the north end of the city. My full-time driver shuts the door behind me, while I move toward the old chocolate factory now converted into the headquarters of Blackwood Security.

  Once there, I climb the old wooden steps, then wait in front of the steel door, watching the camera zoom in on my face.

  Two breaths later, the door buzzes open and I step into the building. I can’t even take three steps inside before I spot Ryder Blackwood striding toward me, his black T-shirt with the Blackwood logo on the front straining against his wide chest.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks, shoving his hands into his black cargo pants with a gun holstered at his hip.

  “I need you to look into someone for me,” I say, offering my hand.

  Ryder returns the handshake, his emerald green eyes narrowing. “Should I be concerned about this?”

  “It’s not about the DC,” is all I have to say for Ryder to know I’m speaking of the Dominants’ Council. Back in my early twenties, I, along with Ryder and Micah, as well as another close friend, Gabe O’Keefe, bought out the four sex clubs in the city, renovating them to be of the highest class. We had done this not only to feed our egos but also to indulge in our darkest fantasies with willing women who preferred kinkier delights. But more important, purchasing the clubs gave us total control over the sex industry in San Francisco. Thus, it also gave us a way to protect our identities from the tabloids, which loved a sex scandal.

  Now, at thirty-five years old, I care more about my sex club making money than having an adventure with the women within their walls. I’ve seen it all. I’ve done it all. I’ve also grown tired of the same old show. “This is a personal matter involving someone very important to me.”

  Ryder studies me, assessing my mood, as he slides a hand over his shaved dirty-blond hair. “All right,” he eventually says. “Come into the back and we can talk.”

  I silently follow behind Ryder, passing through the chocolate factory, noting the old machinery still occupying the space. When I step into the room at the back, I give a low whistle of appreciation. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I walked into CIA headquarters.

  Monitors line the far walls, one on top of the other, all connected to street cameras. Beneath the monitors are ten men and women, all working behind computer screens. “Quite the setup you got here,” I say, turning to Ryder.

  He nods proudly. “We’ve got a good thing going.” He waves me forward and enters an all-glass room. I join him inside, then he turns to face me. “Would you object to another team member joining in? I trust everyone here implicitly. Whatever you say here, it will stay here.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “Good.” Ryder knocks on the window, capturing the gaze of a brunette. He calls her into the room with a wave of his hand. “Because Alex is one of my best investigators.”

  I open my jacket and take a seat at the round glass table when Alex enters the room, wearing the same Blackwood T-shirt as Ryder and a pair of skinny blue jeans. Her long hair is up in a ponytail and she’s wearing little makeup, seemingly a girl right out of high school and on her way to a sleepover. But her bright amber eyes tell me she’s wicked-smart.

  “Alex McCoy, this is Darius Bennett,” Ryder introduces.

  “I know who he is,” Alex says, pushing up the black glasses on her nose before shaking my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Bennett.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” I respond, thinking nothing of the fact that she knows me. Everyone does. The tabloids make sure of it.

  I stay silent while Alex takes her seat, opening a laptop in front of her. Ryder watches her, waiting for her to fire up the computer, and after a firm nod from her, he leans against the glass wall across from me and says, “What do you need from us?”

  “I need you to look into someone for me,” I say. “His name is Shawn Mason.”

  Ryder furrows his brows over his intense eyes and cocks his head. “Who is he to you?”

  “He’s the asshole who beat up my ex-girlfriend, Taylor Erickson.”

  I have to give it to Alex, she doesn’t even flinch, continuing to take notes on her laptop. Ryder, though, widens his eyes. I know why. He’s never heard I had a girlfriend before because I never did. I had casual lovers who came into my life and left just as fast. That’s the way I like it.

  Rage slowly begins to swell inside of me and I can’t stand it, forcing me to rise to my feet. I shrug off my jacket, leaving it on my chair, and begin to pace the room. “As I’m sure you can imagine, I’m concerned about his whereabouts and Taylor’s safety.”

  “Yes, quite understandable,” Ryder agrees, glancing quickly at Alex before focusing back on me. “Where does Mason live?”

  “San Diego.”

  Alex’s fingers move quickly across the keyboard as she asks, “His age?”

  “That I don’t know.” I lean against the glass wall with my back to the command center. “But he’s lived with Taylor before, so look her up and then you’ll likely find him at the same address.”

  I see the tightness in Ryder’s expression seconds before he asks, “What exactly do you want to do with this information once we find him?”

  “You don’t want to know what I want to do,” I retort, gritting my teeth. “But what I have to do is find out more about him. I need to understand who I’m dealing with here. And I want to be sure that I have eyes on him.”

  Alex’s fingers freeze over her keyboard. “Has Taylor moved back to San Francisco?” At my nod, she adds, “Honestly, it makes more sense to keep eyes on Ms. Erickson. She’ll be easier to track because she’s here.”

  I shake my head, adamant. “That, sadly, is not an option. I told Taylor I would stay out of it. But I never said that I wouldn’t track down Mason to ensure he doesn’t get anywhere near her.”

  Ryder interjects, “We’re good at what we do. She wouldn’t even see us. We’ll shadow her.”

  “I gave her my word,” I counter sternly, leaving no room to argue. “I won’t break it.”

  Alex clearly reads my expression well because she focuses back on her laptop. “All right, give me a minute here to look this guy up.”

  I turn around, glancing out at the command center, staring at the busy San Francisco streets on the monitors, recognizing that Ryder has eyes on the Financial District, and the faces in that area are currently being scanned through his system.

  Seconds begin ticking by slowly and I shut my eyes, reminding myself why being here is exactly where I should be.

  My eyes shut tight, emotion swelling so hot inside me before I look at Taylor again, standing in front of me in my office. I want to say the perfect thing to her but all that manages to come out is, “It’s better to hurt you now than to break you later.”

  My words are harsh and I see them ripple bitterly across her face. “Why are you doing this to me…to us?”

  I’m breaking as she’s breaking. The strands of my soul are being ripped apart piece by piece. I want to hold her, steal her away so I can always protect her and keep her for myself. But this beautiful creature who has decided to love me deserves the world as she wants it, and I am not the man who can give it to her. “I’m trying to let you down gently, but this is done. It’s over now.”

  “You can’t mean that.” Tears well in her eyes.

  Tears that I’ve caused. “I do,” I lie to her. Because in the end, she’ll change for me. She’ll become the woman I need right now, and I don’t want that for her. “I want you to go and experience life, Taylor. Fuck, go travel. You’re so young. You don’t have responsibilities like I have.”

  “I don’t want to travel or do anything else,” she cries. “I want you.”

  She thinks she wants me, and that’s the problem. I’m not the man she truly craves. I’m the man she’s bound to. I’m the strength in her lif
e. I’m the anchor. But that’s not enough, not for someone like her. “You should want so much more for yourself.” I see her beginning to tremble and I clench my fists, stopping the shake of my hands. “You deserve a man who’s going to show you off to the world and I can’t do that right now.” No, I need to succeed in business. I have so much to prove. I lean in and kiss her forehead, whispering against her heated skin, “You deserve so much more, don’t ever forget that.”

  “This guy is all types of bad news.”

  I snap my eyes open, cold from the memory, knowing I can never be the man Taylor deserves. I can’t be her father, the family man. But I can do what I do well and that’s protect her now.

  “From what I’m seeing here,” Alex continues when I turn to her, “Mason hasn’t had any official charges brought against him, but the police have been to his mother’s house a few times for violent outbursts. And he’s been in a handful of bar fights. Again, no charges brought against him for those.”

  I swing my head around to Ryder, arching a brow. “Do I even want to know how you are able to access that information?” Blackwood Security isn’t affiliated with law enforcement and is in the private sector. While I know they have access to some systems, I doubt internal police reports are part of those systems.

  Ryder smirks, confirming my assumptions. “Probably not.” He glances at Alex, breezily changing the subject. “What else are you seeing?”

  Alex begins typing again, her eyes squinting at her screen. “Ah, wait…oh, okay, so it seems like a past therapist reported that he’s a heavy drinker.”

  “Which is likely what leads to the violence,” Ryder offers.

  I’m hearing the conversation going on around me, but I’m more focused on the fact that Alex is clearly not only an investigator, but Ryder’s best hacker.

  She finally sighs and leans back in her chair. “I’ll need a little more time to look into all this. But from what I can tell, you’re right, Mason lives in San Diego. His passport shows no activity. But to know if he’s left there and come here, I’ll need to look into his bank account and credit cards. Once I have that information, we can easily track him.”